Learning to Love
by ReneeOfAntiva
Summary: An early morning horse ride through the Starkhaven countryside takes an unexpected turn when Angus Vael and his three grandsons happen upon a girl who needs no help from anybody, thank you very much.
1. Four Princes and a Savage

Preparing for an outing with his grandsons made Angus feel anxious and far tenser than he should for simply awaiting them to organize their mounts. Thankfully, he was a patient man and he knew it would work itself out eventually so never really intervened. The bickering, snide comments and petty jabs that seemed to occur only when the three strapping lads were within thirty feet of each other – on the extremely rare occasion that they allowed this to happen – would end… Eventually. For now, all he could do was watch them with a kind smile and contented eyes, for how many 64 year old men could say that they lived to see most of their grandchildren into their twenties? Not many, in this day and age.

A blissfully warm day like this reminded Angus of his youth. Running barefoot through the town with his betrothed as they spent another endless summer together. Hands locked as they raced passed the busyness of town and to the outskirts of Starkhaven, the wondrous forests that awaited them. The smell of the bakery long behind them as they welcomed smells of pine, grass, soil, nature. Sweet afternoons spent familiarizing themselves with the land they would one day come to rule, befriending it – falling in love with it just as much as they had with each other.

Though those days were long gone, his beloved too frail to leave the castle too often he still held fast to the memories and the importance of getting out of the city and appreciating what their wonderful land had to offer.

He waited, leaning against the wooden fencing of the stables for his grandsons.

Ethan, the middle child at 21 was first, ten minutes early. So proper, so royal was Ethan. The role and duties of a Prince suited him, probably the first Vael it had in many generations. It often felt like a suit you had to swear your entire life that didn't quite fit right, was a little bit tight around the collar – constricting, not quite suffocating. All these… Unnecessary embellishments, making you the most noticeable person in the room, unwanted attention. Possibly the worst part in Angus' opinion, the sleeves were just a little bit too short. Your ankles and wrists showing a little more than they should, no way to hide these things – bare for all to see, to criticise and judge. Ethan wore the suit well and looked fabulous in it. He was tall and lean, his dark hair tied back into a small ponytail at the base of his neck with careless curls falling down his narrow, regal face. With his tan skin and dark, dark eyes he had become quite popular with maidens throughout Starkhaven and beyond, his fluid words and movements on and off the dance floor made him something of a marvel among the nobles of court.

Braedan was next, right on time, the heir to Starkhaven's throne. Brown, messy hair with the slightest twinges of auburn that ran through it, only really showing itself when a particular kind of light shone on it. This morning's light was that light. He was a kind lad with soft blue eyes and a chiselled, stubbled jaw that had been hardened with all the responsibilities that came with being the heir, a mere 26. He had just married and there was already talk of children around the castle, Angus often found himself taking his eldest grandson to the side and reminding him that there was no need to rush, no need to panic. Although he was never quite sure that these little heartfelt messages got through to him, as he seemed as disgruntled and moody as always. Braedan would rather be hunting, or training, or simply relaxing than having to deal with diplomats and endless meeting he would have to sit in on and constantly being reminded of his duties. Yet, it always seemed that the people who don't want the power are the ones who are the best to be trusted with it.

He waited as the two young men readied themselves for a brisk early morning ride; unfortunately things went downhill faster than Angus had anticipated.

"You're going to crack the poor creatures' ribs if you strap that thing on any tighter." Ethan chided his older brother, leaning against his own chestnut mare staring at his elder struggle to operate the dreaded complexities of the saddle with a rather smug little grin, one that seemed to be a permanent feature.

"Please kindly sod off you pompous prat." Braedan said through gritted teeth, tugging at the godforsaken strap which was causing him so much bother.

"Oh-ho! That is no way for royalty to speak, now is it, brother?" Ethan strode over the cobbled floor of the courtyard towards the larger man, his heeled leather knee boots clipping on the rough stone. "Allow me?" Putting a hand on his back the younger of the two grinned, feeling a great deal of satisfaction from one of the few areas in which his brother lacked. Stopping Braedan stood upright, glaring at the lean man. Ethan wasn't as muscular as either of his brothers, the eldest being a trained warrior and Sebastian having defined archers arms Ethan had always preferred tactics over physical altercations.

Braedan was dressed in casual clothing, whilst made with fine materials and slightly embroidered here and there the outfit was well worn. The tight black trousers with a free fitting white shirt atop, slight accents of gold around the cuffs. Ethan always donned the finest of his wardrobe for every occasion, a wardrobe which always seemed to have new pieces added every week. The middle child had not inherited the minimalistic nature of his grandparents like his older brother had.

One large, frustrated sigh through his nose and he indignantly handed the strap to him and stalked away. "Oh where is little 'Bastian at a time like this? I dare say he would enjoy the sight of you scurrying away with your tail between your legs even more so than I." Ethan smiled to himself as he corrected the mistakes made by Braedan.

Yes… Angus thought to himself, glancing towards the castles' entrance to the courtyard. Where is the boy?

"I am not-" Braedan began, turning around in a flurry of furious flailing arms.

"But oh the great and indomitable Prince of Starkhaven was no match for the mighty saddle!" Ethan continued in a theatrical voice which he knew infuriated his brother. "The intricacy of each buckle and strap simply too much for his small mind to comprehend…" Done with the horse the man clad in his finest horse-riding gear leapt from his brothers reach as he tried to grab him. "Luckily for the heir, the spare was as intelligent as he was handsome." At the sight of his middle grandson bowing Angus chuckled, enjoying the sight of his beloved ones being able to relax and just be brothers. "Ah, and to complete the set – the Pawn!"

Sebastian halted at the entrance to the courtyard, glaring at his brother before heading towards his own black mare. "Your lack of wit never fails to amaze me, Ethan." The youngest drawled out, clearly already having had a goblet of wine this morning. Angus sighed, the junior grandson was… Well, something.

When he was younger he held so much promise, so eager to learn, to become a part of Starkhaven's legacy, to do good. Memories passed through Angus' mind as he stared at the boy, 19, as he arranged his horse. Sebastian looked troubled, staring down at the saddle with his usual discontented frown. He barely ever bothered to attend his archery lessons any longer, what more could I learn? I'm already the best. He would say to his grandfather who wouldn't protest, wouldn't demand he stay… Maybe he should have been more firm but he did not want to force his grandson into learning, especially what he really needed to learn wasn't how to fire an arrow – but some humility.

Sebastian was not the most graceful of his brothers, the most handsome, or charming. He lacked the drive of Ethan, the humble nature of Braedan.

"Don't be bitter little, bitty brother." Ethan smirked, Angus and his eldest grandson shot each other a knowing look – these two had it out more than was natural for brothers of their age, it was a common thing for them to have extremely heated arguments and it seemed they could both sense one brewing. "The Pawn is just as vital as say, the King, Queen or Knight…" The tall, slender man approached Sebastian whose usually bright eyes and cheerful face had darkened into a deep set jealousy that he no longer tried to hide. "You shall be shipped off to marry some duke's daughter to strengthen Starkhaven's alliances whilst Brae rules the country and I the armies." Slipping an arm around his brother's broad shoulders he chuckled, ignoring the tension built up there. "Grandfather has invited us out horse riding on such a fine day as this – try not to ruin it."

Sebastian closed his eyes as he clenched his fists, trying to recall the young chambermaid's sweet words of reassurance from this morning through the haze of hatred, rage and bitterness. She was entangled in his bed sheets as he dressed for the day, he mustn't have tried to hide his dread for the outing as she had picked up on it fairly quickly. She said things that every girl that had tried to reach out to him had, had tried to nurture his bitter soul, tame him. Things that had little effect on him once he realised that they were simply untrue, sweet and kind hearted, but untrue all the same.

Dark raven hair and pale skin with a face so… Eyes like… He tried to pick up his mood by recounting the beautiful girl in his mind but, somewhat failed to. Yes, he remembered her being beautiful, of course but… "Bloody hell, what did she look like?" Rubbing his chin as he opened his eyes and cast his gaze towards his bedroom window, where he had been not ten minutes ago.

"What?" Ethan asked, sounding slightly irritated. He had apparently been in the middle of one of his overdramatic monologues and felt slightly perturbed that Sebastian had not been paying attention.

"Hm? Oh, nothing brother." Shoving his elder off him with more force than necessary he continued readying his mare. "Just trying to recall the name of the girl I slept with last night." His back to his brother he smirked as he buckled the saddle onto his mare, not bothering to stifle his chuckle as he heard the eruption of spluttering from behind. Turning his head to look at Ethan from over his shoulder, a wry smirk in place. "Something the matter, brother?"

Angus shook his head, Sebastian could be so sly when the need presented itself. Ethan was very proper and did not approve of his younger brothers dalliances with countless women.

"Right, shall we head off then?" Angus smiled.

The natural rustle of the wildlife that roamed this area surrounded them, engulfing their senses. Countless birds chirping endlessly around them in lively chatter, flapping of young healthy wings, the scurrying of small mammals thundering their small paws away from the four men on mounts. The sunlight shone through the trees giving a sense of tranquillity to the forest that Angus had come to truly appreciate in his golden years, and something he wished to share with his grandsons. During his term as Prince he was far too busy with his duties or dealing with other people's messes to come and enjoy the bountiful land that he ruled.

Sebastian twitched and shuddered every so often, the incessant twittering of the creatures pecking away at his brain, the headache he was currently sporting suffering all the more for it. One large hand shading his poor, tired eyes from the sunlight.

Was it always that bright? He wondered sourly, barely paying attention to where his mare was headed. He hadn't gotten much sleep that night, smothering his worries into a voluptuous bosom, elegant legs and a silky stomach. A curved smile was brought to his lips as he recalled the night they shared… Only, he couldn't quite recall it at all. Maker, I didn't drink that much wine. Taking his hand from his eyes he looked up amidst the leaves, streaks of light shimmering down upon the backs of their mounts – his mouth fell agape as he stared at the quivering leaves being moved by the small breeze.

Suddenly, the sounds of birds didn't sound as irritating as they had before. Soothing, cheerful little tunes tickled his ears and he couldn't help but give a small smile as he noticed a squirrel scurry up a nearby tree, pause to stare at the men and then continue clambering up to the safe canopy.

They had rode in silence once they entered the forest, just as Angus had suspected they would. Giving a quick look over his shoulder he smiled as he saw the strapping young men stare in awe at the vast wonderland around them. Heaving a silent sigh he marvelled at the regal, devoted young men that rode in his stead, his grandsons that were surely destined for greatness.

"Sodding, buggering, shitting hell." The girl muttered random cursing's to herself, short, thick locks of blonde hair falling down her face as she poured over the map, no matter how many times she shoved them back behind her ears they managed to tumble back forward. She had tried to find a map of this place that wasn't completely overrun with golden illustrations on each corner; ridiculous looped writing to name every pass, town and bloody tree stump, made of the heavy, thick parchment and cost her an arm, a kidney and her soul.

But, if I hadn't bought this overpriced piece of crap – where would I be now? She tried to be optimistic, she really did. Probably in a tavern, getting directions from the locals and using my coin to buy food… The blonde thought miserably as she stared at the map, not truly reading it anymore. For what is the point in knowing where Willow creek Valley, stupid fucking name, is if I don't know where the fuck I am now?!

The forest was pleasant enough this time of day, birds chirping was a nice distraction from the unholy constant chattering of the city. Usually, Ren had no problem navigating these places – there were tell-tale signs of which way to go, by the kind of people you saw heading in each direction, what state the footpath was in, nearby smells – the usual. But Starkhaven, oh no, Starkhaven was different to every other city, town, country in Thedas. There apparently were no lower classes in this place, they were all nobles. Unless the working and lower class were forced to live underground like dwarves or something – she had not seen a set of drunkards or gossiping fishwives or a rag-tag gang of kids at all. Orlesians, Orlesians, Orlesians, bloody everywhere! Maybe having lived in Ferelden for a small part of her life had instilled some sort of hatred for their… Excess.

Even their accent was just all… Too much.

Sighing she shoved the map into her satchel, intentionally crushing it. Turning she leant on a nearby tree and let herself slide down its rough bark until she hit the ground. "I hate this place." She decided, bringing her knees right up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, quite content to sleep the day away in this position.

"A'right daaarlin'?!" Or, she would have been.

Dragging her head up she looked at what apparently was the entire populace of the working class tottering drunkenly towards her. Where the hell did they find a tavern? She glared at the group of men as they reached her, all leering at her like she was a piece of meat.

The first thing that struck Ren about these men was the smell, hideous stink of sweat, general body odour – it was almost as strong as the stench of alcohol off them. Mismatching pieces of armour and some had no shoes at all on or just one – this had clearly been a busy afternoon for these gentlemen.

"Fa-hic-hancy a tuh-umble, sweetie-pie?" The supposed leader of the group asked, crouching down in front of her. "There's ple-henty for yo-ou to choose from…" He swayed in front of her, curling a brutish hand around her neck. Oh, she was used to this game. If she played her cards right then it could be over pretty sharpish.

The thing with this particular spitfire of a girl was that she had a horrifically low tolerance for anyone threatening her, touching her, invading her personal space – a horrifically low tolerance for people in general, as a matter of fact, and if Ren had any friends to speak of they could tell you that what he just did was him essentially signing his own death certificate.

Almost growling she shoved him backwards to the feet of his fellows. He tilted from side to side for a moment, like a turtle caught on its back, but his friends soon got him to his feet – then he lunged for her, picking her up by the arms and slamming her against the thick tree she had been leaning against.

"Who d-do you think you are? Thi-hink you're too good for me, huh!?" His mouth was so close to hers she could practically taste the ale from his hot breath, suddenly very glad she hadn't happened upon that very tavern – dwarven ale wasn't a favourite of hers. Rolling her eyes she wasted no time in lifting her legs up and kicking hard against his chest, sending him hurtling back into his friends. Landing back on her feet she took the daggers that hung from her hips and smirked at the men.

"I'm giving you one chance to run." She said, standing tall, pointing one dagger towards the group and the other in the hand she had against her hip. This seemed to tickle the men as they bent over laughing.

A wicked smirk spread across her face and she lunged, slicing the first man's throat with ease.

It hadn't been an incredibly tough fight, them all being rather intoxicated it was almost unfair, she supposed. Almost. Anyone that was willing to force themselves onto a person didn't deserve to live, in Ren's book.

The last of them, the leader, was tougher than she had thought he would be – even when drunk he moved like a bull seeing red. Meaty fists pounding into her stomach as he caught her in an awkward angle on the ground, her vision went blurry and she felt vomit rise in her chest, she could barely hear him roar in rage as he hit her continuously. He paused, dragging her to her feet and threw her towards a nearby oak. Her back got the worst of that one, she was going to be more than tender tomorrow if she didn't find a healer.

Steadying herself she looked up, he was pacing back and forth – readying himself to attack again.

He wouldn't get that chance.

Standing up despite her wooziness, she charged, leapt and sliced, stabbed, gouged. He fell with a solid thud to the ground, a cold hard sound that meant he wasn't getting back up again. Leaning on top of him she regained her breath. Her body ached already, not even the amount of adrenalin that was pumping through her enough to numb it. She gasped for air, her breaths loud and raspy. Sweat dripped down her nose and onto his dead, distorted lifeless face.

She smiled.

I win.

The first time Ren killed a person she was left with a chill, emptiness within her like something had been ripped from her soul – innocence, purity. She had regretted that first kill tremendously so… Yet after years of running, constantly running, being betrayed and backstabbed, misplacing trust and being oh so naive she had learned one simple rule.

It was either them or her, and she would fight till her last breath for her freedom.

Suddenly more noise, people, horses – oh how she hated horses.

Standing quickly she glared towards where the sounds were coming from, confused talking, horses hooves on the dirt ground as the four riders rode their mounts through the unholy shrubbery and towards the now dead sounds of battle.

She stood defiant and strong, her brow bloodied - both her own and from wounds afflicted on others - but held high. Her piercing gaze took everything in, her dark eyes cut them all down to size – a knife to the gut – no longer Princes of a prestigious kingdom but men who had happened upon this scene, this powerful creature who appeared fearless as she stood, jaw set, curved lips forming a fierce snarl. Her slender arms were by her side, tensed, twin daggers in the vice grip of her small hands.

"... Are you alright?" Angus called, his voice loud and confident. If he had seen any other woman injured like she was he would have dismounted his horse and hurried to help her but... Witnessing what he and his grandsons just had he knew it best to stay at a safe distance, and if any other woman was injured as she was he dare say they would be dead.

"I am fine." The woman replied. In all honesty he was shocked to have received one, she still seemed to be debating whether they were people to trust.

"Do you need your wounds tended to?" He asked. They had watched the girl be attacked by the men and their first instinct was in fact to help her… But they had been paralysed by her sheer ferocity as she cut each man down.

"No... Thank you." She lowered her head so it was no longer tilted upward asserting her confidence as she analysed the men. The thanks seemed hesitant, as if she were unsure if this were the correct circumstance to apply such a thing.

Chancing a glance towards his grandsons Angus needed to assure himself that they were alright, to see if they had been startled by the scene - he was almost shocked to see quite the opposite.

Braedan, his usually deep set frown replaced with a soft expression of sympathy. A look on his face that he had not seen his grandson don since he were a boy. His hands placed on his horses' neck as if he were all but ready to run over to the girl and carry her to the nearest healer.

Ethan's brows were furrowed and mouth upturned in disgust, the middle child had never had a strong stomach for battles, blood or gore and the display of ferocious power they had just seen had struck him no different. One arm was loosely wrapped around his stomach and the other hanging over his mouth as he stared at the woman, eyes darting from head to foot.

Angus also imagined the girls' appearance was quite alarming for someone who was used to courting elegant royalty. Short, choppy dark blonde hair - almost brown - which had quite clearly not been washed for some time framed her intense face. Mud and blood smeared across her it and stained onto her tattered clothes. Eyes so dark and sharp they seemed to cut you with every glare, dangerous, passionate, stormy.

Sebastian looked mildly interested in the scene for a moment, taking in the form of the woman. Then his eyes trailed down to the bodies that scattered the clearing, his expression almost unreadable. Looking back to her, their eyes met.

Ren's eyes were fierce, so dark against her pale skin. Her face was smudged with dirt, lips dry from dehydration. Dark blonde hair lined her jaw, though most of it was pushed back from her face a lock had curled its way down over her eye. She was filthy, when was the last time she bathed? He wondered.

"Well..." The youngest half laughed, gaining the attention of all present. "Very impressive, next time could you possibly cover yourself in even more blood? I feel that would truly add to the savage barbarianism look you're going for."

A slow eyebrow raised as the girl looked at the Prince; she allowed some of the tension to fall from her shoulders as she placed her daggers back hanging at her side and crossed her arms, sinking into one hip - never taking her questioning gaze from the blue eyed man.

He had a juvenile look about him, a roguish grin flashing pearl white teeth. His sleeveless shirt exposed muscular defined arms – but he was no mere servant. Ren could tell by his features, handsome, regal, that he was bred for more than that. As were all those with him. His eyes were so bright they almost looked unnatural. Then her gaze turned towards the elder of the group and noticed he had the same, vibrant blue eyes.

The oldest, greyed hair swept back from his face and a thick beard covering most of his jaw smiled kindly at her when he noticed she had brought her attention to him, which she flinched at, somewhat involuntarily. He had gentle, worn features. Something about his presence made you feel at ease, want to tell him all your woes because you knew by the way he looked at you he was the type that would listen, but not judge.

The bulkiest of them all was staring at her with an expression that she was all too familiar with, but did not appreciate in the slightest. Pity did not go down well with Ren, whatsoever. His eyes were a much paler blue, tired, no, exhausted eyes. Small dark circles hung from them against his dark skin. His mouth parted slightly in a helpless gape, she knew he wanted to say something but there were probably a million things stopping him.

This last one, she could tell they were related – same tan skin, same curved lips – but he was just so… Everything about him reminded Ren of that Maker awful map she had crushed into her satchel, golden accents on everything he wore, a face that told her he expected her to know his name, a name which was held in high regard among many people, low in more than a few.

"Thank you ever so much for your wholly unwanted and rather useless comment, your Highness." The shock on each of the men's faces caused a small smirk to form on her lips. Sebastian's eyes flicked over to Ethan, he must've been the give-away. The other three wearing rather simple clothes.

But then… He thought, narrowing his eyes towards the girl. How did she know I was royalty…? I could have been an escort of some kind… It wouldn't have been the first time he had been mistaken for such, accidentally or not.

"Good day." She said before turning around with a grace that they had failed to notice she held before and walked out of the clearing.

"Shouldn't we-" Braedan began once the girl had left.

"No." Ethan said grimly taking the reins of his horse again, knowing what his elder brother was thinking.

"But she-"

"Is a filthy, murderous, heathen." The middle son shuddered as he recalled how easily she had killed all those men, big hulking brutes. Not only was Ethan extremely religious, but he was disgusted to see that someone could kill so easily. It was different, in his mind, when it came to armies. It was for the good of the country when they sent their troops to war, it wasn't blind murder.

"I'd say that's someone we want fighting for us instead of wandering the countryside." Sebastian smiled, hopping off his horse, walking over to the bodies, crouching down and inspecting the woman's handiwork closer, ignoring the hysterics his older brother had been put in at this.

"I must say..." Angus sighed, not having taken his eyes off the direction the girl had headed in. "I have to agree with you, 'Bastian." There were moments, mere moments when his youngest grandson showed the slightest potential - most of the time they were casual comments made in passing but Angus had to give credit where credit was due. Sebastian turned to look at the greying man, slightly shocked. A small smile formed as he looked back down at the reddened ground, savouring the ever so rare moments of praise.

"Grandfather!" Ethan clutched his reins close to his chest as he gaped at his elder in horror.

"She could be hurt..." Braedan said hopefully, looking to Angus with a half-smile to which he nodded in return.

"Let us see if that young woman would like employment."

Ethan shrieked, Braedan smiled and Sebastian laughed.

One thing Sebastian always liked about Grandpa was that he had a tenacious ability to horrify the stuck up nobles of Starkhaven, namely his parents, with his somewhat eccentric ideas.

And this certainly was, one of his more eccentric ideas.


	2. The One Boot

_Sod the map._

Ren thought to herself, hobbling as fast as she could through the woods, her vision was still strained from the beating she had received, and she dodging tree after tree by the narrowest margin – often bumping against them and stumbling. Her entire body ached for a hot bath, for a soft bed or for just being able to stop recklessly charging through the forest away from men that were obviously only concerned for her.

Still, she couldn't convince her body to stop, they might have change their tune if they figured out who she was.

"Madam, please wait!" The man she knew to be Angus Vael called through the dense trees. She had chosen this particular path, knowing that it would be difficult for them to follow on horseback due to the rocky terrain and the density of the vegetation. If she had been uninjured and her arm wasn't twitching violently she would be yards ahead of them by now; unfortunately this wasn't the case.

"Madam …" She scoffed. She supposed she did look like hell, and probably could have been mistaken for someone twice her age. Years ago, that might have bothered her, but her primary concern most days was just to see the next, to earn coin enough to survive. She couldn't have cared less if she looked like a haggard old woman doing it.

Halting a little too suddenly for her ribs to like, she peered through some trees and saw, almost far too conveniently, a massive pool of water in the middle of a clearing. A small grassy place where the trees parted to reveal the crisp blue morning sky, a large rocky formation sat, ridged and beautifully natural around one edge of the bank. She smirked and glanced quickly over her shoulder, to gauge how far away her pursuers were. She had time. Sliding between two trees and losing one boot in the process, she moved as quickly as she could across the grass, feeling the silk of each blade against her now bare foot. She threw a desperate glance back at her trusty boot, a look that promised I'll be back for you. Now was not the time for rescuing abandoned boots, no matter how many miles and years they had carried her through. Now was the time for escaping and she was far better at that than rescuing.

Ren dropped painfully onto her backside at the bank of the pool, dipping her legs in to the perfectly still water up to her knees, soaking her trousers. She looked back again, listening for the men: they weren't far behind. Slipping down into the water she drew her breath in sharply at the cold. The water made her achingly aware of every single cut or graze on her body, and she felt like a pincushion as she was repeatedly pricked with the icy cold. The pool wasn't deep, coming just above her waist, and taking a deep breath she dunked her head under, ignoring the shock of cold, just as two of the Vael men came running into the clearing, having abandoned their mounts.

"Wait… What's that?" Braedan said, spying the boot. Heading back he picked up the well-worn, dark brown leather boot and examined it. "Do you think it's hers?" Turning back to his grandfather he showed the shoe to him.

"Probably. She was in quite a hurry to get away from us. I wonder what she thinks we'll do to her?" Angus mused scratching his bearded chin.

"Report her to the city guard, as we should!" Ethan called from behind the thicket of trees where he and Sebastian were staying with the horses. "She killed those men in cold blood, we all saw her. She's nothing but a murderer!"

"A little thing like that would hardly go looking for trouble." Braedan mused as he looked over the boot. Antivan made, it was clear from the stitching. Had these been new, his foppish middle brother would have been green with envy – but they were worn, frayed stitching, scuffs on the heel and toe, no shine.

Angus let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Let us return to the castle, boys. It seems that she has disappeared."

Braedan looked at his grandfather in despair. "But she's injured."

"She's clearly well enough to be gallivanting around the countryside shoeless!" Ethan snapped, exasperated. Braedan couldn't see his brother, but he still shot a poisonous glare in the direction of his voice, huffed childishly and then stalked off. Angus smiled, taking one last look around the clearing before following.

The words muffled by water had stopped, but Ren couldn't be sure it was safe yet. The entire time she had been taking silent sneaking breaths by hiding behind one of the bulbous rocks that lined the shore. She waited for a moment or two until she heard their horses thunder away.

The water ran off her as she stood, blinking into the sunlight she immediately shuddered: while it was a warm day the slight breeze made it bitterly cold for anyone who had chanced a dip. She clambered out of the pool, feeling weighed down by the water. Feeling water squidge in her remaining boot, she quivered in disgust. She slicked her short hair back from her face and rubbed her eyes, looking at her hands she noticed they were much cleaner. At least her dip had accomplished something good.

Sighing she turned around; kneeling by the pool she splashed her face with water, rubbing her neck clean – or as clean as it could get without soap. The cold water against her face was refreshing, and she rubbed her face until no more dirt came off. It would have to do, she thought, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

"Well, that worked out far better than expected." Ren smiled to herself, feeling far safer now that she was alone again. She made a start for her lost boot but froze.

It was gone.

_What? Where is it?_ She twirled around scanning her eyes across the clearing in frantic search. She hadn't been able to hear a word of what they were saying, being temporarily deafened by the water. _Where could it have gone? _"They wouldn't have - no… Why would they take my boot?" Enraged she threw her hands in the air. "Maybe they work for the Templars, maybe they took him hostage so as to lure me in and capture me." Pacing backwards and forwards, bobbing up and down due to the height difference caused by the missing boot. "It makes perfect sense, Father knew the Vaels, didn't he? Yes, I recognised the old man, his eyes… The Templars must know that, trying to lull me into a false sense of security, eh? Those devilish, Templar bastards! I can see right through their little…" She paused, staring into nothing for a moment she realised how deranged she must've sounded. Closing her eyes she took a deep, relaxing breath.

_You're being paranoid. Again. Calm down_. Opening her eyes slowly she took a moment to think on what to do. Over the years, having been betrayed time and again by people who she thought she could trust Ren had become wary of people. She knew that anyone would turn her in for the right price. Patting the pocket where her coin purse was, her heart sank as she felt it was empty. No way to buy a new pair, even if she could afford it, she thought looking down at her remaining boot. Ren had had these boots since she was fifteen. She'd had to have them repaired time and again, but for some reason she had grown a possibly unhealthy attachment to them. Her family had been forced out of Antiva when she was only ten. She loved the boots dearly, as they reminded her of her family's original home.

Her father, Savio, had given them to her for her birthday – bought them from an old contact in Antiva. Their dull life in Redcliffe, where they eventually settled down in when she was eleven, had often been brightened temporarily with the odd treat from their homeland. Savio had once been a successful merchant prince of Antiva, fascinated by art, music, and the theatre. He invested in many things that would help fuel his passions. Sculpting magnificent creations from stone or wood, he would sell them on for astounding prices. He would paint elegant landscapes mostly – he was famous for his beautiful work, everyone who was anyone had a Savio Valente in their home.

Mother was a city guardswoman, she was tough with wit as sharp as her blade, some would have said this made her insufferable. Something about her ferocity entranced Savio but she was no easy catch. Rosina took a _lot_ of persuading to consider this man as a possible husband, and even then she was dubious of this merchant and his frivolous lifestyle. She didn't understand how art could be classed as a career or the need for such excessive pieces but when she saw how passionate he was about his work however, she realized this was something she lacked within her own job. She started to admire him, and he opened her eyes to the wonderful things her job did for the people of Antiva.

They were well off and had three children, Renee and her two younger siblings. Everything was perfect for a time but until the Chantry discovered that both parents were in fact apostates, and they were chased out of their beloved home.

Ren ran her hands through her damp hair, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to force the bittersweet memories from her mind. Once her mind was clear and she was calm again she stood straight and straightened her saggy shirt and tightening the belt around her waist.

"I'm going to look quite the sight, walking around town looking for my boot. I may not even see the Vaels again." She crossed one arm over her stomach and tapped a thoughtful finger on her lower lip. "If I could even find town." She decided to go barefoot. It would attract less attention than going with one shoe off and one on. Striding over to the trees she wove through them until she stumbled on a path, and there they were; the faintest imprint of horse hooves in the dirt.

"If I could follow these I could at least get to town." Then she wondered if they had continued on their little -ride through the country, and she might actually end up on a mountain with even less of an idea where she was. What if they were travelling? Visiting a different city? Then again, they weren't dressed for such a thing; she hadn't seen any sort of luggage strapped to the horses, so that seemed unlikely. She supposed she would never know if she didn't try and her boot would most definitely remain in the grasp of those men. Sighing, she made a start down the path.

_If things get too risky I'm not endangering my life for a boot, no matter how long I've had them_, Ren thought, half more determined and half saddened at the prospect at possibly losing her dear beloved boots.

After a while the dirt path transformed into paved road, and then it was far easier to navigate her way. There were sign-posts on every street corner, no mistaking she was in Starkhaven now. Ren wanted to head for the castle or the stables, maybe, not get too close and arouse suspicion, but just to gauge what the likelihood was of getting her beloved boot back.

Handsome houses lined the wide set road, all painted white with tiled roofs. Thick wooden doors and window frames, not even the slightest bit rotten from rain. They had clearly been treated with something to prevent this. A small smile came to Ren's lips as she recalled her father doing the same to his wooden carvings for his customers. There were whole days the family had to be evacuated from the house because of the smell being too much.

The beautiful buildings were adorned with flowers by windowsills or in pots by their doors, bright and colourful and fragrant. There were gas lanterns held up on posts in the middle of the street, along with hanging baskets on some which also held marvelous flowers.

As she strolled through the residential area she couldn't help but smile, this city seemed a happy place – you couldn't imagine anything terrible or unjust happening here. The people buzzed about, every single one of them looking like there was somewhere they urgently had to be. All dressed in fine clothes, not all wearing smiles, but you could tell that this was a good place to be from, a good place to live.

When they lived in Antiva, Ren had never accompanied her parents to Starkhaven as a girl but now she wished she had. What would it have been like, she wondered, to see this city through the eyes of an innocent girl? She would have probably thought this to be some magical kingdom, a beautiful place where every citizen was happy, every day of their lives. Now, however, somewhat sadly, Ren knew where to look to see the corruption that every city contained.

She needed to know these dank areas in case the need of a quick getaway arose. Scanning across the street, across flowers and fountains and beautiful buildings, she wondered for a moment if by some miracle there actually was no downtrodden area in this place – if that were the case then this city had become a lot less safe for her. Then, she noticed a small, dark alleyway which someone who wasn't used to using these kinds of places as escape routes would easily fail to notice. She decided to scope it out a bit, to see where it lead if any promising maze type places where she could easily lose guardsmen if they took chase. Entering the alley there was a definite change in atmosphere, even temperature. The cool shade sent a small shiver up her spine as she slowly entered. Ren saw the husks of people, thin and deprived. She paused, looking towards a small group of peasants who didn't have the energy to even beg. Mere rags for clothes, their arms and legs skeletal. It was so odd, it was like these people were confined to these dank areas – they didn't try to bask in the sun, drink from the fountains and no one seemed to be in much of a hurry to help them.

_Well, no one's in a hurry to help anyone but themselves._ Ren knew this to be true. She was one of these selfish people who thought of herself before others, it had become a powerful instinct. In her more bitter moments, where she's allowed herself to dwell on the past or on a particularly bad day she would think, _who has ever bothered to help me_, and she too would pass by beggars in the street. Yet, at times like this, when she felt particularly ashamed of this trait she had developed, she often found herself going the extra mile to help the needy.

Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out a sodden loaf of bread. Cringing slightly, she squeezed it lightly, to see if it was actually edible.

She couldn't imagine they would be too fussy. She quickly strode over to the group of three men and two women, who didn't seem to notice her until she cleared her throat. One of the men and both the women jumped in fright at the sound and the other two men glared up at her. It was an attempt to protect the ones who needed it, even though their energy had been sucked from them, their determination to survive remained.

Ren could appreciate that.

They all kept their faces covered save for one man. He glared up at her, which slightly unnerved her as one eye was blind; his once strikingly green eye had become white. His dark skin was scarred in many places, across his nose, several over his mouth, and cheek. She could only imagine there were more under the bundle of rags he wore. He had seen the trials of this world, possibly more than any of the others.

"Here." She handed the large loaf towards the man who stared at the bread. Some of the others gasped and the other strong-willed man went to grab it but the half blind man stopped him.

"What to do you want?" He asked, his voice deep and gravelly as if he hadn't used it for days. It cracked but still managed to sound intimidating.

Ren had never been one for words; she didn't like rambling, apart from when she spoke to herself which probably happened far more than was healthy, but right now she felt these people didn't need someone spewing meaningless words at them – they just needed to eat. "Nothing."

He eyed her for a moment more, before slowly reaching out his hand and taking the bread.

The others seemed to become feral, staring at the piece of soggy bread, desperate for it – but the man, far thinner than the rest, calmly tore a piece off for each of them, but did not take any himself. Ren stared at him in confusion and he noticed.

"Do you think giving us food give you the right to stare, girl?" He said, glaring up at her again as the others ate. She wasn't sure if they even noticed their friend hadn't taken any.

"I – uh, didn't mean to. I'm sorry." She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "Aren't you hungry?" She asked, only to receive an incredulous look back.

"Do I look like I get to eat often to you?"

"Then why didn't you take any?"

He didn't reply for a moment, only turned his gaze to his fellows. "There are some burdened with the responsibility to make sacrifices to benefit those we love." He quoted.

Ren tensed. It wasn't the first time she had heard those words. "Markus Penthatch, the philosopher."

He turned his gaze up to her again. "Yes…" He suddenly chuckled. "He wasn't the most successful of his kind, but the simplicity of his works truly struck a chord with me." A sad smile cast itself over the man's face for a moment, then he smiled. "Thank you."

Ren didn't know what to say, just gave a weak smile in return. "I'll leave you now." As she was about to turn and go the man said:

"Are you missing a shoe, girl?" He was staring, one eyebrow raised at the boot in her hand and then to her bare feet.

"I am, yes." She gave a humourless laugh. Then suddenly her eyes widened in realisation. "I don't suppose… You've seen the Vaels wandering through here with it, have you?"

"I was just about to mention it." He gave her a quizzical look. "The princes came through here bickering not too long ago. The eldest, Prince Braedan, was holding a boot. Hit his brother Ethan over the head with it, in fact." The man chuckled, Ren's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"If they've damaged him I swear-"

"Him?" He laughed hoarsely. "You've given your boots a gender?" Ren's mouth hung open as she stared at the man, heat rising to her face as she blushed furiously.

"I – well, I may have." Clearing her throat she turned from the man, stalking away.

"They took 'him', towards the market, if you'd like to know." He called, smiling. She whirled around, furious, embarrassed, so utterly embarrassed.

Her face burning bright red she glared at the man with wide eyes. "Thank you." She said, in a tone that didn't in fact imply gratitude.

Sebastian yawned widely, not exactly politely or princely, as he and his brother and grandfather browsed the market. He had been quite irritated when Brae and Grandfather dragged them there: he hadn't signed up for this. A quick ride into the country, and be back in time for lunch – spending as little time with his brothers as possible. He had no issues with his grandfather, indeed, he felt like was the only one in the family that didn't look down on him – well, apart from Meghan but she was younger than him, and lower than him in the line for the throne, and so she didn't count.

The market was bustling; merchants were selling their usual wares. Fruit, veg, flowers, books – the Starkhaven market was quite a bountiful place, if you had enough coin. Maker knew it costs you an arm and a leg to buy anything around here. Sebastian thought, staring at Ethan's back, the elaborate embroidered jacket him feel slightly sick. Turning his head away, he pondered if he should simply wander off back to the castle.

Braedan was asking a cobbler who had set up a temporary stall in the market if he had seen a girl wearing a boot like the one he was holding. Ethan was bickering with grandfather, or he trying to. He kept yapping that they should report the girl, and Grandfather would whip out something about the Maker being the only true judge of character and that we should allow fate to take its course, which only infuriated Ethan further.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian shook his head, what was the point in asking the cobbler for the girl or in fact reporting her to the guard? What sane person would return to the very city where people were searching for her? People she clearly didn't want to be found by.

And just as the youngest Vael brother thought that, he saw her.

The girl from before, strolling through the market like she was out buying her groceries, so casually and carefree. Barefoot, of all things – carrying her remaining boot in her hand, dangling it carelessly at her side. His mouth gaped open for a moment. It was definitely her, she wore the same clothes, had the same dark brown eyes. Her hair was a far fairer blonde now though and she was soaking.

"What in the Void…" He whispered to himself as he watched her stop at a book stall, pick one up and flick through its pages – her boot now tucked neatly under her arm.

"What is it, 'Bastian?" Angus asked his grandson; Ethan had turned to look at him as well.

"Oh…" Grinning at them, he shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. I'm going to go train now, is that alright Grandfather?" Sebastian asked, smiling sweetly. Angus' eyebrows shot up in surprise but he soon regained his composure, studying his face for a moment.

"… Yes." He said slowly, with a look that said you tell me what this is about later.

Sebastian nodded before heading off in the opposite direction from the girl.

Smiling to himself, Sebastian knew that Ethan, as suspicious as he was of everything his younger brother did, would be watching him for a bit as he left. Well, he supposed that he had given Ethan enough reason to be suspicious. As soon as he noticed his brother and grandfather's attention was no longer on him he made a swift U-turn, jogging slightly as he dodged oncoming people – passing his relatives and making sure they didn't notice him he headed for the girl.

He stopped a bit away from her to observe her, leaning against a thick wooden post with his arms crossed, grinning devilishly. Her face seemed to be more thoughtful, more gentle, and her fierce eyes were now soft and warm as she gazed down at the book, feeling its pages fondly. Her hair was a much lighter shade of blonde now it was cleaner. It was the first thing that had dried on her, it didn't stick to her face with sweat like it had before, it fell around her face, delicate blonde curls flowing down to her jaw. Her face was cleaner as well, her skin, porcelain white, without any blemishes.

Sebastian had to think, was this the same girl? How could it be? The one before was filthy, a savage by anyone's standards. Now this delicate, angelic creature that stood here with small, dainty hands running her slender fingers down a page – lips slightly parted; and they were beautiful, full lips.

All of a sudden, her eyes flicked up towards his own and he suddenly remembered - the cold, piercing glare that set a chill into his stomach was back - this was no angel.

"You…" Placing the book down she turned to face him, glaring still. She did that thing again. Sebastian found it fascinating, she tilted her head up slightly as if analysing him, or trying to intimidate him possibly? Maybe even assert dominance of some sort.

"Hello." He said cheerfully, smiling brightly which, for some reason, made her eyebrow twitch. "I barely recognised you when you're not bathed in the blood of your enemies." Pushing himself off the post, he came closer. They both forgot that they were in a market, there seemed to be only the pair of them in the entire world at that moment – she was ready to hightail it back into the woods, or maybe that dark alley, if he called for the guards, he merely wanted to observe her further.

Her eyes twitched as she watched his eyes slowly move across her face, studying her. Ren saw the shadow of faded surprise when she noticed him staring at her, her clothes were wet and she was barefoot – she must have looked so strange.

He expected her to attack, pounce, run – by the way she held herself so tense. Instead, she said something he did not expect.

"Where's my boot?" Ren demanded, her glare only growing more hateful.

Sebastian's face faltered for a moment and then one of the corners of his mouth upturned in an amused half smile. "Your boot?" His eyes wandered down to the other shoe still tucked away in her arm as she crossed her arms. "You came to Starkhaven, where my brothers could easily report you for murder, for your boot?" He asked, his eyes returning to her own and to his utter shock, she was blushing.

"Yes. Why is that so hard to understand?" She snapped defensively, furious that his smile only grew wider.

"Oh, well, not many people would endanger their lives for… a boot." A small chuckle escaped his lips which only made her blush more.

"I-I've had these boots for a long time, I don't have a lot of things I can call my own so you could see why I might want them back." Looking away stubbornly she turned her glare towards the sky.

"I'm afraid you're asking the wrong brother, you'll want the heir." Sebastian pointed towards Braedan who looked defeated as he passed the boot to his grandfather. He made some excuse about a meeting his parents wanted him to sit in on and left, heading back towards the castle. "Well, now my grandfather, I suppose."

Ren stared at the grey-haired man. She definitely recognised him. Prince Angus, if she remembered correctly. Chatting with a younger man, dressed in gaudy clothes with tassels, shoulder-pads and covered in so many elaborate patterns that it made you dizzy to even glance at him. "Get the sparkling carpet away from him then I'll get my boot and be off." She said looking at Sebastian expectantly. He simply raised an eyebrow at the command, looking towards Ethan, whom he supposed he did look rather like the Orlesian rug that was in the dining table.

Sighing deeply, he figured there was no harm in it. If the girl wanted her boot so badly, he would get her boot for her. Striding towards the pair without saying another word to her he stopped right in front of them.

"'Bastian, I thought you were-" Ethan began but was cut off by Sebastian dragging him off towards the tailors.

"Brother! Let me buy you to a new suit, your choice, my treat." He grinned at Ethan who, despite being unfathomably suspicious, was entirely up for it.

Angus stared after the pair, completely confused and holding a stranger's boot. Sighing, he wondered what he should do with it.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought his attention from his thoughts, and to his surprise…

"Little Renée…" Angus' mouth gaped open as he stared at the girl. When he first bumped into the girl he thought he vaguely knew her from somewhere, but then again, he was old enough that he often felt he vaguely knew everyone he saw from somewhere.

Her face twisted into a somewhat horrified expression, eyebrows shooting up, her mouth forming a slight grimace.

"Why… That was you." He couldn't believe it, the little girl of an old business associate, and he had just witnessed her slaughter a dozen men.

"Give me my boot." She frowned at him. "… Please."

Looking down at the boot in his hand and then back up at her, he was speechless, but didn't hand it to her. "What are you doing here?" Angus asked, suddenly extremely frightened for the girl's wellbeing. The Templar influence was strong in Starkhaven, she wasn't safe here unless she had someone looking out for her.

"It doesn't matter, just give me my-" She stared but found herself being pulled away from where she was just standing. "He-Hey, let-"

"Renée, please, we must get you somewhere safe." Angus said, pulling her by the upper arm towards the castle.

"I- What?!"

"The Templars…" He said in a hushed tone. Her face softened for a moment, only a moment, as she realised he was concerned for her.

"I'm fine. I wouldn't enter a city without knowing I was safe." She explained, taking her arm from him. "I know people within… Well, I know people. They feed them false information about me, my location, my appearance." She sighed. "I'm in Nevarra, Perendale, at the moment, dyed my hair black and it goes down to my ankles, hiding in the Blasted Hills."

Angus' mouth fell open slightly. "That… Isn't all that far from here." He said, feeling a little dumbstruck.

"Far enough for Starkhaven to be safe for a while." Frowning again she glared at her boot. "Look, if you're not going to let me go yet please can I at least put my shoes on?" Holding out her hand expectantly, he smiled at her and handed her the boot.

"I wish to speak with you, Renée. Please accompany me to the castle?" He asked, his eyes flooded with worry and concern but no pity.

"The castle? Would I even be allowed in there?" She asked doubtfully, tilting her head.

Angus chuckled warmly. "My dear, I am the former Prince of Starkhaven, what I say still holds a fair amount of weight around these parts." Taking a step back he gestured forward gently. "Shall we?"

Ren's furrowed eyebrows did not falter, frowning at him, then the beautiful palace. "I really shouldn't." She said, turning away but felt her arm caught by Angus.

"Please, we have much to discuss." Smiling gently he let go of her arm. Rolling her eyes she gave up walking ahead.

"Fine! But if this is some kind of ambush then I swear I'll be going for you first." She huffed.

"That was going through your mind the entire time, an ambush of Templars?" The old man chuckled to himself, this girl was certainly headstrong.

She did not reply, avoiding his eyes as she glared at the beautiful castle hidden behind high walls ahead. This was a strange turn of events, even for Ren and her unconventional lifestyle It was harder to find escape routes in castles. She only hoped that Angus was the kind man he seemed to be and that she remembered of him.


End file.
